Why I’m Glad Lucas is a Boy

I wanted a girl.

When I was in the first trimester of my pregnancy with Lucas, I was certain that I was having a girl. My husband was certain. Our friends were certain. My more intuitive friends would say, "Oh, that's definitely girl energy!" It may have been my overwhelming confidence in this assumption that swayed everyone else's hypothesis, but nonetheless, it was a shock to everyone, it seemed, to find out I was pregnant with a boy.

I actually cried on the ultrasound table when the technician pointed out my baby girl's penis. It's not that I didn't want a boy; I just hadn't ever, ever, ever, considered the possibility that I would become a mother to a boy. Truly! Isn't that kind of crazy? My daydreams of motherhood just so happened to always involve snuggling a teensy baby girl, decorating a little girl's bedroom, and attending mother-daughter teas in matching frocks. That last example alone was a pretty good reason for this potential daughter to pass me up and let Lucas take this gig instead.

It took a while for this discovery to sink in. I knew there was a 50/50 chance of this happening, but it still just didn't compute. I found myself wondering if perhaps I'd sensed he was a girl because maybe he had really feminine energy. Maybe he would be gay. I was cool with that. It was far preferable to me than a muscle-headed jock.

[Aside: I know this all sounds, well … not very enlightened. We're supposed to just want a healthy baby, right? And we're supposed to suspend all of our expectations so we can see our children clearly for who they are and who they are meant to grow into without imposing our unmet desires on them. Yeah. Well … I know all that, but this was my truth at the time. I may as well admit it. Thank goodness I've grown just a bit since then.]

The fact of the matter was that my petite and delicate baby girl turned out to be a 95^th percentile chub of a distinctly male, toy-bashing, truck-loving, non-snuggling baby boy. Oy!

How's that for making sure my expectations were duly shattered? This was a gift, of course. He forced me to take notice of who he was. He forced me to take off the mommy glasses that held the vision of motherhood I'd been polishing my entire life, and be here now in this reality with him. He forced me to pay close attention, and wonder, and think outside of the box. Through all of this, he taught me to be the mother I am today.

I am madly in love with my amazing little boy, (if you haven't guessed it from this blog) and I can't imagine him being anyone other than who he is. I also don't imagine my spiritual journey unfolding in quite the same way if I'd had a girl instead. Loving Lucas has given me compassion for men I'd otherwise resent, fear, or scorn, since I can now picture them as innocent little buddies just like Lucas, and know that at their core, that innocence is who they truly are. Accepting reality in the face of strong (and different) expectations was a long and arduous task, but working through it paid off in a new ability to more easily flow with life instead of trying to control it.

This is just the tip of the iceberg. I know Lucas has much more to teach me just by being who he is, testosterone and all.



[Funny note: I started out intending to write about my son's three female alter-egos, but I backed up so far in setting up my thoughts that it became another post. More on those later, then. J]